


The Leper King

by Joelcoxriley



Category: Kingdom of Heaven (2005)
Genre: Crisis of Faith, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Love, Illnesses, Jerusalem, Loss of Faith, Loss of Identity, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Parent(s), Moral Dilemmas, Slow Romance, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-06-22 11:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19666471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joelcoxriley/pseuds/Joelcoxriley
Summary: A young woman makes a pilgrimage to Jerusalem with her father, convinced that the Holy City can cure all ailments. Some ailments, however, never fully heal and can leave scars for generations to come, even after one's heart stops beating.*Parent to The Leper and The Angel.*





	1. Jerusalem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old story I mainly skimmed through and fixed any errors I found. It made me realize how much my writing has improved over the years.

" _I...am Jerusalem._ "

Baldwin IV, The Leper King of Jerusalem

* * *

"Do you see her, Arella? The...Holy City...and there she is...right before us in all her glory!" Arella's father, Jordan, asked between several gasps of air as the portly man paused for breath, thinning brunette hair plastered to pale skin slick with a film of sweat, eyes rimmed red.

"Yes, I see her. Are you well, Father? Perhaps you should rest?" Arella suggested, her soft voice laden with worry as she lightly touched the man's thick arm. The woman winced upon feeling the unnatural heat that was produced from his touch, the man's shirt saturated with sweat.

"Rest?...No, no, my dear...I, I am fine. The caravans-"

"The caravans can wait, Father. Jerusalem is not going anywhere, either. Please, Father. Just rest for a moment." Arella ushered gently, the man looking down toward the parched ground before looking back up at his daughter, his brown eyes squinting upon her.

"Yes, I suppose you are...right. But just for a little while." Jordan replied, letting the fair woman gently lead him a few steps from the dirt road, their pack mule following them as its ears twitched.

"Are you well, Father?" Arella asked, Jordan grunting as he slowly lowered himself down to the ground to sit, his stomach bulging out slightly.

"Oh, Arella...do not worry about me, dear." Jordan replied, smiling despite the heat and his present fever.

"Do not worry? But Father, your health is the reason why we have come to Jerusalem." Arella stated, pulling out a small doeskin canteen as she unscrewed the top, taking a small sip as the warm water slipped past her cracked lips.

"God heals all ailments, Arella. You will not have to worry about me." Jordan reasoned, waving the canteen away as the blonde haired woman offered, yet the woman refused to retract her arm.

"You should drink more, dear. I will be fine." Jordan spoke, the woman frowning as she shook her head.

"This is for you. Father, you need it more than I. You need it to fend off the fever." Arella spoke, the man shaking his head.

"No, Arella. You need to be taken care of first." The man spoke, his gaze turning to several of the pilgrims they were traveling with as their companions walked passed, their footprints being left in the dried earth.

Jordan's mouth gaped slightly as the man then turned his gaze to the sky, the Arabic heat merciless as the deep blue of the cloudless sky reflected in his gaze. Even though the wind was silent, a lone vulture slowly circled the area in a large loop as it glided on the draft, its lone shadow casting on the far ground.

Sighing, Arella looked upon her father with a sudden wave of sadness, the woman kneeling down next to Jordan as she gently turned his gaze to look at her.

"Father..." Arella called, tears beginning to rim her eyes as the man looked upon her with recognition, as if suddenly noticing her.

"Arella? Why do you weep? Why does my little girl weep so?" Jordan asked, Arella shaking her head before looking at the man, her lips pierced together, as if thinking upon what to say.

"You...do not have to take care of me anymore, Father. Your daughter is all grown. Do not worry for me, for it is my turn to take care of you, as you have taken care of me my whole life. Now please, allow me to take care of you. Drink." Arella urged firmly, yet gently as Jordan looked upon her with guilt, his strained breathing in a rhythmic pattern.

"It is true. My beautiful butterfly is...now strong enough to fly. I am sorry...for all this trouble." Jordan apologized, Arella kissing his clammy brow as the canteen left her small hands.

"With love there is no trouble." Arella spoke, relieved as she saw the man take large gulps of water, the clear liquid flowing down his chin and onto his shirt. Jordan gasped, the flow stopping as he tried to shake the last drop out of the canteen, and upon finding none handed it back to Arella.

"I am sorry, dear." Jordan apologized.

"Do not worry. We can restock in Jerusalem. Are you well enough to walk?" Arella asked, screwing the cap back onto the canteen.

"Aye. I believe I am." Jordan replied, nodding as he struggled to get on his own feet, but found himself struggling for breath.

"Father! Oh, Father, calm down! Do not strain yourself!" Arella cried in worry, moving towards her father as the man began to hack a dry cough.

"Father! Father, are you alright?" Arella asked, her brow heavily creasing in worry as Jordan's coughing fit slowly subsided, the man breathless as he breathed in large gulps of air.

"It...feels as if the air...burns." Jordan commented, Arella kneeling by his side as she grabbed his much larger hand.

"Come! We must make haste to Jerusalem!" Arella cried, groaning as she struggled to pull the much larger man to his feet, Jordan getting on his own feet with some difficulty.

"Yes, I...fear I am getting worse." Jordan voiced, his steps heavy and dragging as he wheezed, Arella pulling the mule by its reins to follow.

The pair walked along with several of their fellow pilgrims, Arella looking off to the side to see a young Muslim man turn his gaze from her, as if embarrassed. Raising an eyebrow slightly, Arella guessed that the strange behavior was because she was not wearing a turban.

Approaching the city, Arella's eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened upon seeing the magnificent city towering over her with its strong walls and soldiers, whom allowed them entrance into the city. Looking around, Arella couldn't help but be amazed by the complexity of the city's irrigation system, several small and beautiful fountains lining the streets, providing water as several potted plants were carefully cared for. The chapel of the great church in the distance seemed to tower over the dwellings, perhaps only dwarfed by the castle in the heart of the city.

"Do you see her, Arella? Do you see Jerusalem's beauty?" Jordan asked, a smile on his face as Arella nodded.

"I do. She is beautiful." Arella stated, noticing that a number of the pilgrims never passed the gate, and instead were praying on the outside of the defensive walls. During their pilgrimage, Arella was stunned to see such strange animals that the Arabic people used as companions. They were called camels. Strange, long necked, two toed, humped creatures that could go on without water for days. She had tried to pet one on her travel to Jerusalem, and was startled when the creature spat in her face. Though the camels were alien, and seemed friendly, she learned to tread carefully with them. Others, however, chose to ride horses. Arella and Jordan chose a simple mule to carry their supplies. The mule carried everything they had.

The streets bustled with all forms of life as the occupants moved to and fro, many traveling with a basket of fresh fruit from the market district. The mule's ear twitched as saliva slowly dribbled down its chin, chewing on a cud.

"Father, why do you not go to the doctor? I shall tend to the mule, and afterwards I shall go the church and pray for you. I will not take long." Arella suggested before adding, "Or would you like me to accompany you?"

"Oh, Heavens, no! I am fine, dear. I can make it on my own." Jordan spoke, Arella's lips piercing together in a thin line, hesitant.

"Very well...if you are sure. Farewell, Father." Arella beckoned, kissing his warm cheek as the man returned the sign of affection. Arella looked at the man before smiling sadly.

"Yes, well...be safe. I will see my butterfly when I get back, yes?" Jordan asked, smiling sullenly, eyes tired.

"Butterflies always return home, Father." Arella whispered, her blue eyes beginning to sparkle as the man chuckled weakly, coughs beginning to erupt from his lungs. It took a few seconds for the coughs to subside, and Jordan saw the look of worry on the young woman's face.

"Do not look at me with such worry. You are becoming your mother."

"Mother was a good woman."

"That she was. Can you...pray for her when you go to the chapel, Arella?" Jordan asked, Arella nodding her head as she smiled.

"You shall be there to pray for her too."

"Yes, thank you. Take care, dear." Jordan called, smiling as he turned and moved slowly down the street, wiping the sweat from his brow and coughing occasionally.

"God, please watch over Father." Arella whispered, looking at the mule, its large brown eyes staring at her as its snout nuzzled her.

"No, no, Kafka. You cannot eat my hair." Arella called, the mule snorting as the human pulled away.

"Come, my friend. Let us get you to the stables." Arella mumbled, heading in the general direction. Upon finding the stables, Arella was shocked to find most of the stalls empty save for a camel inside one. Needless to say, the young woman chose the stall farthest from the camel.

Arella led Kafka into its stall, being careful to hide several of the family's most precious items as she closed the stall shut, filling a small bucket of water for the mule.

Hearing the sound of soft footsteps approaching, Arella raised her head, a brow raising in curiosity upon seeing the same young man from earlier.

"Greetings. I am Akeem." The young man greeted, almost timidly as he approached. Arella awaited for the man to continue, but upon hearing only silence opened her mouth to speak.

"Greetings. I am Arella." Arella introduced, the young man smiling shyly as he nodded.

"I...saw you with a sick man earlier today. I was going to ask if you needed any assistance with your mule, but I became fearful, and did not ask." Akeem admitted, Arella's mouth agape slightly in shock. Akeem flinched, and seem to shrink into himself.

"I am sorry if I offended you."

"N..no. No, do not be. I just...was not expecting that kindness from a stranger." Arella spoke, Akeem smiling gently at the woman.

"Whatever illness your friend has, I pray that Allah shall heal his sickness."

"That is very generous of you." Arella replied, smiling.

"Please, I am curious, but may I ask what religion you are?" Akeem asked, Arella pausing to answer as she briefly looked around, hesitant.

"I am...Messianic." Arella replied softly, as if ashamed.

"I understand. You wish to respect your old ways by keeping them, but adopt your Christian God as your Savior." Akeem stated, Arella nodding her head.

"You...don't seem like...the others." Arella replied slowly, fearful of the man taking offense only to have him clear his throat.

"I fear I must apologize to you and your people on my brothers' behalf. I understand that the Jewish have been prosecuted by both Christians and my people. Not all of us want bloodshed, and it should not take place in the Holy City. This is where we come for peace, and I would like it to remain that way." Akeem spoke, a light flush suddenly breaking over his tan skin.

"You are a wise man. Many men could learn from you." Arella commented, smiling gently.

"Oh, thank you, but I learn my teachings from Saladin."

"Saladin? I fear I do not know who that is." Arella replied, feeling stupid and embarrassed.

"Ak! You do not know who Saladin is? Salahhudin is a kind and generous king, and wants nothing but peace. But peace cannot be claimed while Jerusalem is under Christian rule."

"Saladin wants Jerusalem? But would not that start a war?"

"Saladin and your Christian King do not want war. Both want to settle this in a peaceful way, but when blood must be shed, they shall bleed." Akeem spoke, Arella shifted with unease and sudden anxiety.

"May I ask why you have come to Jerusalem?" Arella asked, wishing to change the subject, to which Akeem was swift to respond.

"I have come to pay homage to Allah. What is it that you have come to seek?"

"My father is ill, and we hope that with the grace of God he shall recover."

"I see. I pray for the health of you and your father."

"And I you. Will you go to the wall to pray?" Arella asked, the man shaking his head.

"No, no. I have already paid my homage. Are you going to the church?" Akeem asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"Yes, I am. I am going to pray for my father and mother."

"May I come along? I have not seen the church yet, but I have heard stories of its beauty that have brought men to tears." Akeem asked hesitantly, the woman pausing for a bit, debating.

"I suppose you could. At least I will not get lost alone." Arella replied, giggling gently as the man chuckled a bit awkwardly.

"Let us go to the church!" Arella cried, the pair walking to their destination that could be seen towering above the other buildings.

The church was dimly lit, several candles glowing softly with their flame as incense filled the church, a large golden cross at the altar, and behind that cross was a much larger one with Jesus nailed to the cross. It was as if it was built into the very stone.

"It is beautiful." Arella whispered, looking at the tapestries that lined the walls , several bouquets of flowers lined at the altar and floor at the base of the cross.

Akeem looked upon the cross in wonder, looking around as Arella kneeled at the altar and bowed her head in a deep prayer. Slowly beginning to walk through the aisles, Akeem paused as he saw a small cross on the ground. Bending over, the man picked the Christian symbol up, realizing it was a necklace upon closer study, and that the cross was encrusted by a number of small gems.

Smiling softly, Akeem gently set the cross on a small table nearby, as if afraid of breaking it. The young man remained silent, observing the beauty of the Christian church as he heard the Bishop's footfalls echo throughout the hall.

"Oh, quiet, darling. People are here." Akeem's head turned to a woman speaking, his eyes going wide upon seeing the Princess of Jerusalem, Sibylla, with a small boy by her side. Upon noticing their presence, the Bishop greeted the pair with respect.

"My lady! Welcome, welcome! How may I be of service?" The Bishop asked, the small, blonde haired boy looking at the Bishop with curiosity.

"My son, Baldwin, would like to pray to God." Sibylla spoke, the woman dressed in the finest silk as she wrapped a protective arm around the small boy.

"So the boy has a confession?" The man asked, Sibylla's eyes narrowing dangerously.

"A prayer is different than a confession." Sibylla growled, her voice supplying hidden venom as the Bishop cleared his throat.

"O-of course, my lady. My apologies. The King is not accompanying you?"

"I am." The Bishop turned his head to see a rather tall man emerge from the closing church doors as they slammed shut, dressed in all white with embroidered gold and tightly bandaged arms with a silver mask which exposed only a pair of blue eyes. The man's stride, while slow, was confident, and prideful.

"Greetings, my lord. It is rather rare that you come to this church." The Bishop stated, The Leper watching as his sister moved towards the altar with his nephew, Baldwin spotting a young woman in deep prayer, and an Islamic man standing off to the side.

"Do you have a confession, my lord?" The Bishop asked, the silver mask under white silk turning towards the man, Baldwin feeling slight annoyance creep into his chest.

"I have come to support my nephew, not to confess to you." Baldwin stated, voice soft yet firm as the Bishop readied himself to speak, but was rendered silent by the man's gaze.

"I...shall take my leave, my lord." The Bishop muttered swiftly, bowing before retreating.

Sibylla led her son towards the altar on the opposite side of Arella, Sibylla kneeling down as she placed her interlaced fingers on the altar.

"Here, like this, darling." Sibylla spoke, gently fixing her son's hands properly, the woman ignoring the soft sobs of the woman next to them.

"Mother, why is the woman crying?" Arella's breathing stopped, and her flushed face reddened even more. Was she crying? She didn't even notice. The whole time she was focusing on asking God to watch out for her father and heal his sickness, and asking God that he would watch over her mother.

Arella turned her head towards the boy, the small boy smiling at her with a beautiful smile. Arella smiled as several blonde strands fell in front of her face, wet tears staining her cheeks as more threatened to fall.

"You have a beautiful son." Arella whispered, Sibylla turning towards her and producing a small smile.

"I thank you. Now, come, darling. Focus." Sibylla ushered, Arella sniffing as she slowly got to her feet and rubbed her eyes.

Turning around and walking swiftly, Arella released a silent gasp upon coming to a sudden stop to avoid a collision. Arella almost lost her balance only to stumble slightly, her eyes seeing nothing but pure white. Or what looked like the chest of someone. Looking up, Arella's eyes shown with fear as she saw not a face, but a silver mask. It wasn't what she was expecting.

"O-o-oh! I am sorry, I-I did not see you." Arella stammered, like a hapless fish as she briskly wiped her eyes and the drying tears on her face. The much taller man stared at her, studying her, and Arella could swear that she could hear the faint, slightly raspy breathing from under the mask.

"No, I did not see you. I apologize." The man spoke, briefly pointing to the mask to prove his point, Arella dumbfounded on what to say.

"I pray whatever sorrows you have are fleeting, and not lasting." Baldwin spoke, Arella releasing a shaky breath.

"I...thank you. You are very kind." Arella spoke, releasing a slight smile as she moved to the side.

"Farewell." Arella spoke, Baldwin simply nodding as the woman met up with Akeem, whom was waiting for her.

"Akeem, you did not have to wait for me." Arella spoke, the pair making their way out onto the street.

"Arella, you are very fortunate! Did you not know whom you were speaking to?" Akeem asked, Arella feeling a knot form in her stomach.

"No. Whom?"

"The woman you were praying with was Sibylla, the Princess of Jerusalem and her son!" Akeem spoke, Arella feeling her blood freeze in fear and disbelief.

"What!? B...But-"

"And do you know who that man was? The one in the mask?" Akeem asked, Arella paling, her eyes widening in fear.

"W-Who?" Arella asked, her voice shaking.

"The King of Jerusalem." Akeem stated, Arella completely and utterly freezing, the word 'king' echoing over and over in her head.

'It could not be, could it? No, of course not! But, if it was...'

"Oh, Lord, I made myself look like an idiot!" Arella cried, suddenly feeling faint with embarrassment as she swayed and wobbled on her feet, Akeem gently grabbing the woman to sit her down on a step.

Well, when one was a peasant girl from France, fluidity regarding social graces towards nobles was not to be expected.....


	2. In Peace and Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Thank you for reading thus far! More of Peasant-Girl-From-France-Arella publicly embarrassing herself ahead. 
> 
> I apologize if she's annoying.

" _All are welcome in Jerusalem-not because it is expected, but because it is right._ "

\--Baldwin IV, The Leper King of Jerusalem

* * *

"Are you alright, my friend?" Akeem asked, watching the woman as Arella shook her head from between her hands, hiding her face.

"Would you like some water? Surely you are thirsty." Akeem asked, hearing a muffled "No thank you." in response. Sighing, the man gave up.

"You know, your King is a kind man. You should be honored, not embarrassed." The man reasoned, Arella's shoulders heaving in a great sigh as she looked up at the man, her tears long dry.

"Perhaps you are right but still...I almost walked into him. I hope he is not mad." Arella voiced her concerns, Akeem chuckling softly.

"You worry too much."

"How would you feel if you walked into Saladin?" Arella asked, her blue eyes locking onto the man, closely watching his reaction as the man paused in thought.

"I would be honored, and treat the man with great respect." Akeem answered, smiling as he nodded.

"But what if Saladin became angry with you?" Arella asked once more, Akeem shaking his head as he frowned slightly.

"A good king is kind to his people. Saladin is a good king because he is kind to his people, just as your Christian King is. Were he a bad king, The Leper would have snapped at you." Akeem reasoned, Arella nodding her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You are right, Akeem. He...did wish me well." Arella added after a second's thought, Akeem smiling.

"See? A good king."

"Yes. A good king." Arella stated simply, smiling gently up at the man as she stood up.

"Thank you, Akeem."

"It was my pleasure." The man simply stated, smiling softly as he looked upon the church once more.

"The stories I heard about the Christian Church are true. It is beautiful." Akeem commented, Arella releasing a soundless laugh as her canines bared.

"Yes it is. Perhaps I can go to yours one day?" Arella suggested, Akeem's eyes widening slightly.

"Truly? You would?"

"Why not? It only seems fair." Arella asked, Akeem hesitating slightly.

"Well...you certainly are not like the others." Akeem stated, laughing almost nervously. "Of course, you should wear a hijab."

"Would not a tzniut do?" Arella asked, confused as Akeem looked at her, equally confused.

"What is a tzniut?"

"It is what women wear when they want to be modest. Well, Jewish women. It covers the hair." Arella explained, a gentle flush alighting her cheeks as Akeem cleared his throat.

"I...think we should get you a hijab. That is the safest way. Some of my brothers are not tolerant of other religions." Akeem stated, Arella's face falling slightly, once again feeling slightly embarrassed before picking her head up and nodding.

"Yes, of course. Well-"

"Akeem!" Arella was cut off, turning her gaze to see another Islamic man approach. Akeem appeared to shrink into himself slightly.

"Ugh...Uncle, I-"

"My nephew, where have you been? And who is that woman you are with?" The man asked, his voice harsh and stern as his eyes narrowed. Akeem's mouth opened and closed like a hapless fish, the young man stumbling on what to say.

"Murrabi, this woman...she is my friend, and-"

"It is my fault." Arella spoke, Murrabi's gaze suddenly snapping to the woman, "I wanted to come to the church to pray. Akeem was with me, I wanted him to see it." Arella added, Murrabi's eyes darkening, and his jaw clenched as it appeared that he would speak to the woman, but instead turned to his nephew.

"You were in a Christian Church?" Murrabi asked, Akeem clearing his throat as his eyes glanced around anxiously.

"I-I was, Uncle. But-"

"Did you pray?"

"Wha-"

"Did you pray to the Christian God?!" Murrabi asked, his voice becoming slightly shrill with rage as he fists clenched. Akeem visibly shook in terror as Arella's eyes shown with uncertainty and guilt.

"N-No, Uncle! I-I swear to Allah that I did not!" Akeem cried in terror, falling on his knees as he went into a deep bow, his nose touching the ground.

"I am ever a servant of Allah!" Akeem whimpered, his voice shaking, and Arella could swear that she could hear soft sobs coming from him.

"Leave him be. Akeem did not forsake Allah. You have my word. If anything it is my fault." Arella spoke, stepping forward as Murrabi looked towards the woman with slight shock before his face twisted in disgust.

"And what words should I trust from a sow? You Christians are just pigs that ruin our land, slaughter my people and steal our most Holy Jerusalem." Murrabi snarled, his canines showing as Arella's eyes briefly flicked to Akeem, the man still bowed deeply on the ground. In curiosity and fear, however, Akeem has lifted his head to watch the spectacle. Several passerbys had stopped to watch while some had chose to ignore the conflict.

"And it was you whom have slaughtered the Jewish. My people have suffered enough from both Muslim and Christian hands, though I hold no ill will for either side. I only seek to find peace." Arella spoke, anger slowly beginning to bubble in the very depths of her core.

"Hmm, Jewish? Then perhaps I shall oblige you in delivering you to your people where you shall be damned for all eternity?" Murabbi asked, Arella's eyes widening in terror as her heart skipped a beat in fear. Akeem swiftly jumped to his feet, the young man moving in front of the woman, his arms outstretched to clasp the older man's shoulders.

"Uncle, why waste your time? She is but a woman, after all." Akeem asked, his efforts resulted in him being pushed rather roughly to the side. Arella backed up slightly before her foot hit the first step leading to the church. Looking behind her, Arella couldn't help but feel an odd sense of comfort before turning towards the enraged man.

"While Allah may view you as a humble servant, you are but a coward in the eyes of mine." Arella spoke, her voice calm and steady, which the young woman had surprised herself over her brazenness. Murrabi growled lowly, his stride suddenly picking up speed as Arella felt her blood go cold.

"Uncle, no! I implore you, stop!"

"I will show you shame, sow!" Murabbi roared, his hand rising to strike the woman as Arella cried in terror, raising her hands in defence too late before a loud crack was heard. The harsh strike sent Arella falling onto the steps, the fall no doubt producing bruises as a large red mark appeared on her cheek and nose, a thin trickle of blood slowly seeping down a nostril.

Arella's fingertips brushed the warm, stinging spots on her face and nose, the small fingers coming back with blood. The woman coughed slightly, tasting the blood in her mouth from having bit her tongue in the process. Struggling to get her baring correct, Arella noticed that a rather large crowd had now gathered, but no one appeared to even breathe. All were completely silent, and seemed to be looking at something above her. Even Murabbi and Akeem were looking.

Arella then heard the sound of soft footsteps slowly approaching her, however, the woman barely noticed as she tried to stop the blood that ran down her nose. Only when Arella had seen a flutter of white did she look up. It was then that she saw the silver mask looking down at her, a small hand over her nose as blood seeped through her fingers and onto her lips, her eyes showing slight terror and confusion.

After a few seconds of study, Baldwin looked toward the crowd, his eyes narrowing on the Muslim man that was just at the base of the church steps. Looking upon the crowd, all were silent, and none dared to move when in the presence of their king. Silently, Baldwin raised his arm and pointed toward Murrabi with a wrapped finger, the attacker freezing.

"You." Baldwin addressed, Murrabi paling slightly as The Leper slowly walked down the few remaining steps, his movements an almost equal amount of graceful feminine and dutiful masculinity.

Akeem slinked away as he saw the king stop in front of Murrabi, not wishing to be in any conflict as Baldwin tilted his head slightly, as if studying the man.

"On your knees." Baldwin ordered softly, Murrabi hesitating, as if debating on what to do before a sneer twisted onto his face.

"I bow for no Christian King." Murrabi growled darkly, Baldwin's posture seeming to change, several guards coming near, ready to apprehend the man if given the order.

"On your _knees_." Baldwin ordered again, his voice dominant, and assertive as Murrabi looked around before looking back toward the masked man. Slowly, regretfully, Murrabi lowered himself to his knees.

"You hit that woman, did you not?" Baldwin asked, Murrabi staying silent, both knowing the answer.

"Tell me: Why?" The Leper asked, Murrabi staying silent for several seconds before answering.

"She needed to be taught a lesson in shame, Christian King." Murrabi answered, Baldwin releasing a deep sigh, his breath almost shaky before looking at the man, silent.

"Then allow me to teach you that lesson." Baldwin spoke, Murrabi's eyes widening upon watching the king fluidly produce a small whip from his belt.

Arella looked ahead in curiosity, the white silken cloth waving gently in the wind as the woman became mesmerized by it only to be broken out of that trace as the white cloth suddenly jerked violently, and a loud crack followed by a grunt filled the air. Arella's eyes refocused on what was happening around her, to which the woman saw Murrabi fall to the ground by the force of the blow, Baldwin regaining his posture before putting away the small whip once more.

Murrabi lay on the floor, a bloody tooth laying next to him as the red liquid stained his beard, a large red mark staining his tan skin.

"Christian pig!" Murrabi growled, Baldwin grunting softly at the insult.

"I pray you return to your homeland safely. You are free to come to Jerusalem for all are welcome here, but do not disrupt the peace of my city. I will not have Jerusalem's streets running red with blood from religious uprisings. All are welcome here and are encouraged to worship in peace, and I will not allow that peace to be broken. Regardless of faith, I will not stand for violence." Baldwin spoke, Murrabi looking up at the king as he slowly climbed to his knees.

"Take this man to the city gates." Baldwin ordered softly, Murrabi suddenly finding himself being dragged away, kicking and cursing in the process.

Akeem watched as his uncle was dragged away, his eyes shifting to Arella, whom was still sitting on the steps. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse in small groups, leaving only Akeem, Arella, and the king along with a few knights.

Arella looked up at the silver mask, Baldwin not moving, as if content where he was before looking at the woman and slowly approaching her. Arella's heart began to hammer in fear as he stopped a few feet in front of her.

"Are you well?" Baldwin asked, the emotionless mask glaring in the sunlight at the woman.

"Yes. I am s-sorry for the disturbance." Arella stammered, a wave of nervousness washing over her. Really, who wouldn't be nervous around a king?

"What king would I be if I never defended my people?"

"A bad one?" Arella asked, not sure if she should have even answered that question as the man chuckled slightly, a soft cough breaking the gentle pattern.

"Are you alright, my king?" Arella asked, doubting if she should speak or not. She wasn't too sure. Should she speak, or wait to be spoken to? It made her nervous. What if she did something wrong that the man took offense to? If she were to get kicked out of Jerusalem, she couldn't leave. Her father needed her!

Baldwin didn't answer, instead, the man raised a hand and waved off her concern. Akeem stood nearby, the man seeming fearful and uncertain on what to do.

"I thank you, my king." Arella spoke, slowly rising to her feet as she produced a handkerchief, trying to hide the blood by covering up her nose.

"It was nothing. A king must always defend his people, even if it costs him his life." Baldwin spoke, Arella unsure if he was smiling underneath, but he sounded pleased.

"That is very noble of you, my lord. Pardon me, but I must g-go. I need to see that my father is safe. Um, with your permission, of course." Arella spoke swiftly, feeling a cold sweat break out onto her skin, only for it to quickly vanish as the man chuckled softly as he nodded.

"Godspeed, good woman." Baldwin spoke, Arella quickly bowing before making her exit towards Akeem.

"I am sorry for what my uncle did to you. That was most cruel." Akeem apologized, Arella wiping the blood from her face, the white of the fabric turning red.

"That is alright. He was being mean to you as well. That was not fair." Arella spoke, Akeem sighing softly.

"I suppose I shall go see to my uncle. I wish you and your father good tidings, my friend. Farewell."

"Farewell, Akeem." Arella wish goodbye as the man walked away, Arella making her way towards the general direction of the healer.

Upon finding the healer, Arella smiled as she saw Jordan sitting on a stone bench.

"Father! I prayed for you and mother at the church today. I am sorry I took so long." Arella exclaimed, the sun setting behind her as the man smiled.

"That is alright, Arella. So long as you are fine." Jordan replied, Arella bending down to kiss him as the man returned the gesture, the man's eyes widening at the large bruise across her face.

"Good Lord, what happened to you?" Jordan asked, startled, voice laden with concern. "Let me see." Jordan demanded softly, his large hand gently cupping her face as he turned her head to get a better look. The contact caused the large bruise to cry in irritation.

"I am fine, Father. I just fell. You know how clumsy I am with steps." Arella spoke, wincing in pain as she pulled away, a smile forming on her face as her eyes began to shine.

"Well? How did things with the healer go? Are you cured? I prayed to God for you, Father, so you must be cured!" Arella exclaimed, excitement in her voice. Jordan remained silent, and his eyes appeared to soften.

"Arella...I am not cured." Jordan spoke, sighing sadly as Arella's eyes became wild.

"Not...not cured? What do you mean? God cures all ailments in Jerusalem! This is His city!" Arella cried. "I do not understand!"

"Arella...I am suffering from no disease."

"If you are suffering from no disease then why are you not cured?!" Arella asked desperately, fear wracking her heart as Jordan licked his lips, unsure of what to say.

"Arella...you must understand...it is my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed


	3. Forsaken

" _The Saracens say that this disease is God's vengeance against the vanity of our kingdom._ "

Baldwin IV, The leper King of Jerusalem

* * *

"H...Heart? Your heart? Your..." Arella broke off, the young woman unable to comprehend what had just been said to her as water began to flood in her eyes, threatening to break the floodgates.

"Arella. Arella, child, you must understand..." Jordan cooed softly as the woman's face began to flush, Jordan grabbing one of her smaller hands only to have Arella violently rip her hand away, stepping back.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, NO! I do not understand and I shall not understand, Father!" Arella cried, hearing the one word echo throughout her mind again and again, taunting her with the terrible truth. The woman's small form began to shake as she shook her head, blond bangs cascading over her forehead as she hugged herself.

"H...How? How did...why? Why is God letting this happen?!" Arella cried in dismay, tears falling from her eyes as the man watched her with a sullen gaze.

"I-no, I-I prayed to God, Father! I prayed to God! How...how can He abandon us after we have gotten thus far? He cannot!" Arella screeched, hiding her face as she tried in vain to wipe her tears, Jordan sighing a deep sigh as he cleared his throat.

"And what if this is God's answer to your prayers? What if this is His will?" Jordan asked, Arella suddenly jerking swiftly, violently as her hair whipped wildly from the motion.

"What kind of God would will the death of a good man?! That is not fair! I have prayed and prayed and-" Arella suddenly quieted, her hands now digging into her eyes as she screamed.

"Nooo-oh...what kind of God would?-We-we came to Jerusalem for-to help you...why would he seek death in His city?" Arella asked, beyond heartbroken and betrayed as her voice cracked and shattered, arms weakly falling to her side.

"Arella, shhhhh. It is alright." Jordan spoke softly, slowly getting up from his position on the bench to move towards his daughter as the woman shook her head.

"No...no...e-everything is..." The woman's voice quivered as she hicked, taking in a sharp breath. Jordan approached her, his thick arms outstretched as he wrapped the small woman in a tight embrace.

Arella felt the familiar warmth and protection that had kept her safe from the darkness of the world as a child. Her father was always a great, big, burly man-almost like a castle, or a bear. Upon feeling the warmth, Arella suddenly became the child would run to her father's arms when frightened, seeking comfort and safety. And like that little girl so long ago, she sobbed into her father's chest, her small arms wrapping around his shoulders as her knees buckled and slacked. Once more, her father was her rock, her home that she could always depend upon. Jordan had always been that foundation she needed. But now, Arella couldn't help but think the horrible, terrible truth that existed in the darkest corners of her mind. This may very well be the last time she ever hugs her father.

"No, He...He...He cannot take you away from m-me! He cannot! Y...You are all I have, Father..." Arella whispered softly, Jordan rocking her gently, as if she were a small child.

"I know, child. I know." Jordan spoke, his eyes beginning to well with tears as he looked to the sky.

"After your mother died, my beloved Isolde, I prayed to God everyday-everyday-to give me the strength to raise such a beautiful daughter the way your mother would have wanted. I asked God, that before my time comes that He shall let me know. Do you not see, Arella? This is God's plan. I asked Him, that when my time comes that He may watch over you, for you do not need me anymore. You do not need your father, Arella." Jordan spoke, Arella squeezing even harder, as if afraid to let go.

"No! That is a lie! I will always need you, Father...I will always need you..." Arella whispered, her lip trembling as her breath slowly returned to normal. Jordan shook his head at her comment.

"No, dear. This is God's will, and He has something planned for you. Of what, I do not know, but...but...Arella, He shall be your father. Not I. I place your care in His hands." Jordan spoke, face sullen.

"God shall never be my father. God does not have my love like you do." Arella spoke softly, a taint of bitterness in her voice as she released a deep sigh, her body relaxing.

"In time, He will." Jordan spoke, kissing her cheek as the pair hesitantly parted, Arella taking deep breaths to calm herself.

"Shall we...return to the healer?" Arella asked, Jordan shaking his head as he chuckled slightly.

"No, dear. I want to sleep out under the stars tonight." Jordan replied, Arella pausing to respond as she looked him over.

"It will be cold tonight."

"There is always a nip of ice in the night, darling." The man commented, Arella's eyes shining with worry as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the walls and buildings.

"I...very well. Shall I go to Kafka?" Arella asked.

"Yes, but not alone. I will accompany you there."

"Uhh...but, Father do you really think that is wise in your..." Arella broke off, unsure how to phrase her words.

"Nonsense. I shall be fine." Jordan assured, Arella giving a defeated sigh.

"Then you shall take my hand." Arella stated, Jordan looking at her with curiosity as the woman stretched out her arm for the man to take. The man looked upon the small hand before looking at her face.

"Indeed I shall." Jordan spoke, mouth agape as he nodded, and allowed her much smaller hand to grab his.

"Come now. The stables are this way." Arella spoke softly, taking her pace much slower than she normally would as she stayed close to the man, glancing at him every few minutes in worry.

Night fell by the time the pair had reached the stalls and settled down, Jordan laying on the ground in a makeshift bed as the many stars reflected in his eyes. Arella lay next to the man, her arms wrapped around her knees with a small quilt to fight off the cold as she listened to the slow, heavy breathing of her father.

"Are you warm enough, Father?" Arella asked, the young woman hearing nothing but the man's breathing for several seconds.

"I am fine...you need not worry about me." Jordan replied, Arella shuffling towards him, seeing a large amount of sweat on the man's brow. Yet despite the sweat, he appeared to shaking horribly.

"Your mother, Isolde...she loved the stars." Jordan spoke, Arella folding her quilt slightly as she dabbed the sweat from the man's brow, unsure what to do as tears welled in her eyes once more.

"Yes, I know. You told me, Father." Arella spoke, unsure what to say as she put her quilt under the man's head.

"She loved butterflies as well." Jordan whispered, Arella unsure how to respond. She had no idea if this was the fever talking.

"She did?"

"Yes. Every spring...just before summer...a butterfly would always come to your mother. Same kind...same color...it would always return...and just flutter about...landing on her hand, her nose, her stomach when she was with child-with you. She...believed it was an angel." Jordan spoke, voice slurred and pausing for breath.

"Father..."

"When you were...not even a winter old...that same butterfly landed on you, and your mother thought that...it was blessing you...watching over you. So my Isolde said 'Our daughter...she is blessed by Heaven...by an angel, and I want to honor the...the gift God has given us. What do you think of Arella?', she asked me. I said...that it was a perfect name. For I knew that God had blessed us...blessed you with an angel...with a butterfly...something that is one of the most...purest things in this world."

"Father, please...you need rest." Arella stated gently, trying to make the man more comfortable as she propped his head.

"You will be fine without me."

"Do not say that." Arella ordered firmly, sudden desperation in her voice as the man chuckled.

"I love you, Arella. Your mother would be proud. You always made me proud."

"F-Father! Father, no, I...I love you, Father. I love you." Arella spoke softly, panic in her voice as her heart began to hammer with fear.

"That is my...butterfly. Do you remember...remember what butterflies do, Arella?" Jordan asked, his brow once again slick with a film of sweat as he looked at her with half lidded eyes.

"They...always return home." Arella answered, voice soft as Jordan smiled at her.

"Yes. Butterflies...always return home. Always." Jordan spoke, his voice barely above a whisper as the night suddenly fell quiet, not even the insects were making their songs in the dark.

"F...Father?" Arella asked, her breath stilling as cold fear spread throughout her body. She couldn't think. She couldn't breath. Her mind and body were frozen by fear.

"F...F..." Arella tried again, but found herself too weak to even pronounce the word, tears flowing down her cheeks and lashes unconsciously.

In was then that she heard the sudden noise of a snore, and much to Arella's relief, a deep and raspy rhythm began to follow. Releasing a breath of air that she didn't even notice she held, Arella allowed her body to relax, her hands covering her face as her breathing shook her small form.

"Oh...thank the Lord." Arella breathed, taking a moment to collect herself as her hands fell to her side, her eyes glued on the rising and falling of Jordan's chest, waiting for that terrible moment when he would never draw breath again.

Slowly, gently, Arella laid herself down next to Jordan, her head resting on his chest as she felt the steady yet raspy moving of his lungs. Tears began to well in her eyes as she heard the irregular beating of his heart, each skip or pausing sending her into a silent panic.

"I love you, Father. I love you. God, please save him. Why are you taking so long to save him? Please. Please...I beg you." Arella pleaded gently, weakly as she glanced up at the few stars she could see from her position. Surely God would save her father, yes? He had too.

Arella prayed silently, her small hands clutching the blanket as she kept hoping, praying that God would save her father, the man that had been so good to her in all her years of life. She hoped that God would fix his heart so she would not have to worry that each beat might be his last. Surely, God would not let her down, would He?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hate rereading my old work. Quite frankly, I think The Leper and The Angel has much better writing quality, if only because that's more recent and my skills developed.
> 
> I will say, however, that I quite like Arella's developing rage towards God as she's thrust out of an innocent, fantasy like believe and into the harsh reality of life, religion and spirituality.


	4. Dreams of Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited the chapter name because I accidentally put Forsaken twice. :D

A pair of eyes darted this way and that under their protective lids, Arella groaning as sweat dripped off her brow. The woman tossed and turned, blue eyes suddenly snapping open, large and wide. The first thing she saw was the light of the harsh sun bearing down on her.

Pupils swiftly contracting, Arella closed her eyes, seeing a harsh red color even behind her lids before opening them once more. Blinking swiftly to allow her eyes to adjust, Arella wiped the sweat that had formed on her brow. In doing so, the woman noticed a blanket on her person and froze, a cold sweat breaking upon her despite the heat of the sun. It suddenly hit her. Last night wasn't a dream as she had hoped.

"Father..." Arella whispered, a cold chill racing down her spine as a knot formed in her stomach, a wave of dread washing over her. In one swift, panicked movement, Arella twisted her body to where she had last seen the man, eyes shining upon seeing Jordan in the same place.

A shaky sigh escaped passed the woman's lips, but whether it was one of relief or anticipation, Arella could not say. All she knew was that a large lump was forming in her throat as she looked upon the man.

"F...Father?" Arella struggled, voice barely above a whisper as the shine in her eyes grew, lower lip trembling in sorrow, as if she were a young child once more. Looking upon the man, she knew he would never respond.

Arella swallowed as she tried to fight back the lump that prevented her from speaking, her voice so weak she could only mouth the word she wished to say as her face molding in despair, heart broken.

Despite the heat of the day, Jordan was not sweating, even when laying underneath the blanket. In fact, the man seemed very pale, almost a sickly grey, flesh frozen in place, eyes closed and mouth agape on one side.

Arella's hand shook as she touched the man's cheek, finding his flesh stiff and cold.

"No. No, you cannot." Arella faltered, voice shaking to barely a whisper as she shook her head. No, it could not be. Jordan was fine. Yes, any moment now the man would open his eyes and smile at her. Smile a great big smile at her like he always did.

Arella stared at Jordan for several minutes, watching him intently as her eyes became fastened to his chest. Her heart fluttered as she saw his chest move, relief overflowing within her as she saw the blanket move slightly. Her hopes came crashing down, however, when she noticed it was the just the wind moving the fabric, or maybe even her own mind that had simply willed it because she wished it. Deep down, the woman knew her beloved father would never wake from his sleep.

"F...Father...Father, wake up. Father, please...please!" Arella begged, nudging the man in vain to awaken him, her hands shaking in terror. The woman barely noticed the sound of footfalls approaching her as they steadily grew louder, the earth cracking under the weight.

Arella jumped slightly as she saw a shadow tower over her, faintly recognizing the voice that spoke.

"Oh, you are still here. I thought..." The voice faltered as Arella turned towards the person, her eyes looking upon the man, face haunted with shadow, "...is everything well?"

Arella looked at the man, knowing she knew him, but the woman could not place where in her current state. She just knew he was her friend.

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but found her mouth too dry as her throat squeaked and gurgled. The lump would not let her speak, no matter how hard she tried.

The man froze in place for a second, as if debating something before briskly approaching, kneeling down as his hand reached for the man's neck.

"Help...h-help him..." Arella begged, breathless as she looked at the man, or rather, passed him with desperation, her gaze unfocused.

"Arella, I fear that I cannot. He is gone." The man responded softly, sighing with sorrow as he looked upon the girl. The woman, while staring upon him, appeared to be looking through him, her body rocking softly as her legs shook underneath her, eyes still unfocused.

"G...gone?" Arella asked, voice hollow as she attempted to look the man in his eyes, but it felt as if she were surrounded by fog, like she was in a dream.

"Why...why do you say that? Father is he-here. Why are you so cruel?" Arella inquired, the man pausing for several seconds before sighing, placing a hand on her smaller one.

"Because he is dead. I am sorry." The man answered, frowning as Arella's eyes slowly began to refocus, blinking.

"Dead?" Arella asked, the word echoing within her head as the man nodding slowly.

"Yes. Dead." The man repeated, Arella releasing a quaking sigh as her head dropped, eyes closed tightly for several seconds before returning to look at the man, feeling the warmth of his hand.

"I see...thank you, Akeem." Arella spoke softly, a sunken smile touching her lips.

"Shall I send for a priest?" Akeem asked, the woman shaking her head in response.

"No. Father is already dead." Arella replied, gently breaking the physical contact as the woman shifted slightly, legs still trembling and numb.

"Then what will you do?" Akeem asked, rising to his feet as the woman shrugged her shoulders.

"I do not know. Bury him, but...it seems almost cruel to bury my father in soil that is so far from home." Arella spoke slowly in thought, turning her gaze towards the stable, Kafka's head sticking out.

"Will you take him home?"

"I do not have the coin to travel, and dragging Father through the sands seem cruel as well, exposing him for all to see..." The woman broke off, distressed as she glanced once more at the stables.

"Where are you going?" Akeem asked, Arella rising stiffly, numbly as she almost lost her balance.

"To get Kafka." Arella answered, her legs seeming to move on their own as she bumped into the side of the stall, perhaps dazed. The woman shortly returned, rope in hand as the mule followed behind, ears twitching and butting Arella gently.

"Are you leaving?" Akeem asked, Arella shaking her head.

"No. I am just going to bury him away from the city." Arella stated, grabbing her blanket before looking at her father once more.

Approaching the man, Arella draped her blanket over the man's face before bending down, struggling to lift the man off the ground with the literal dead weight. Akeem wordlessly approached and aided the woman in moving the body towards the awaiting pack mule, both trying to avoid having Jordan make contact with the ground.

"On three?" Akeem asked, Arella nodding as they took a moment to briefly set the man on the ground before grabbing him again.

"One, two...three!" Both grunted and struggled to lift the man up, Arella's knees nearly giving out only to find her father's weight had lessened as the pair successfully placed the man of Kafka's back.

"I am sorry, Kafka." Arella apologized, pausing to catch her breath as she noticed the mule shift in uncomfort at the sudden weight, the stiff body laying queerly on the mule's back.

"Come, Kafka. Let us go." Arella ordered softly, tugging at the mule's reigns as Kafka snorted loudly, hooves lazily hitting the packed earth. Kafka's ears twitched to the sound of the man and woman speaking.

"You do not have to follow, Akeem. He was not your kin." Arella spoke, Akeem following.

"You were close to your father, I understand, but I feel the desire to make amends for what Uncle did. This is my task towards redemption." Akeem spoke, purpose strong as he stayed near Kafka, intently watching the body so it did not fall off.

"You are not your uncle." The woman stated softly, looking out into the vast desert before her, spying several trees and grasses in the distance of an earthen hill.

"That may be true, but he and I are of the same blood. He will never seek the path of redemption, so I must seek out that path for him." Akeem stated, the pair falling silent as the heat from the sun increased, Arella now seeing mirages on the horizon.

Upon approaching the shaded trees the trio stopped, Arella looking back to see that they were a good distance away from the Holy City.

"I think this is good enough." Arella muttered, Kafka's tail swishing away the flies as the man and woman moved into position the hoisted the body to the ground.

Arella took the time to wrap her father's body within the blankets, Akeem spying a shovel within the pack mule's cargo and pulled the tool free from it's leather prison.

"Where would you like me to dig?" Akeem asked, Arella raising her head to look at the man.

"You do not that to do that, Akeem. He is my father. I should dig his grave."

"There is rock underneath the dirt. Your father would be in the earth and at peace faster were I the one to dig." Akeem reasoned, Arella sighing, knowing that the man was right.

"Very well. I just wish my father to be in peace." Arella stated, Akeem plunging the metal into the earth, grunting as he began to dig.

The sun rose high in the sky by the time Akeem looked up from the grave he had dug, sweat and dirt creating a film over his tan skin as Arella working on tossing large rocked out of the grave.

"Do you think the grave is deep enough?" Arella asked, Akeem planting the shoved into the soil. The wooden handle may have stuck above the earth, but it was good enough that a predator would have to work for its meal.

"Yes. Yes it is." Akeem answered, tossing the shovel as a sharp pang was heard from it hitting the ground, the man then hoisting himself up out of the grave.

Arella climbed out of the barrow, hair and clothing covered in dirt and sweat.

"What now?" Arella asked, Akeem walking towards the body as he grabbed the man's arms.

"We put him in." The man answered, Arella seeming confused, perhaps from the heat. But nonetheless, the woman aided her friend and grabbed her father's legs.

"On three. One, two...three!" Both grunted once more as the pair carefully placed themselves as the far end of the grave, slowly lowering the body.

"Careful. Do not hurt Father!" Arella warned, Akeem simply nodding as they crouched, both stretching until Jordan hit the ground. Once they felt the lack of weight, only then did they truly let go.

"There. Now we must bury him." Akeem stated, breathing deeply before picking up the shovel slowly, muscles stiff.

"Yes. Bury." Arella muttered, staring blankly at the body wrapped in wool before turning her gaze to Kafka, the mule standing contently in the shade, chewing on the grasses and occasional bark of the trees.

Arella's blue eyes shined slightly as her legs automatically moved towards the trees, her fingers brushing against the rough bark before grabbing a strip, lips pressed together. Kafka's ears twitched as a snap was heard, his head picking up to look upon his master with a wooden piece of bark, his ears twitching once more as another snap resounded through the air.

Arella looked at the pieces of twin bark in her hands, wide, thin and yet sturdy as her eyes traveled to the lean grasses swaying in the desert wind. Approaching the grass, Arella wrapped her hand around a strand, flinching slightly as a sharp edge cut the flesh of her finger. Ignoring the minor cut, Arella ripped the blade of grass with a crack as she twisted it, finding it much harder to break than she thought.

Looking at the items in her hands, Arella fashioned the strips of bark into the shape of a cross before tieing them firmly together with the grass. It may not have been the best cross, but it was better than nothing.

Arella turned back to Akeem, the man carefully filling in the dirt with the mound next to him, occasionally flattening the soil with the shovel. Several minutes passed before the man had completely filled the grave, a small mound now protruding to show the presence of a barrow.

Wordlessly, Akeem turned to the pile of rocks that the pair had dug up and began to plant them upon the grave. Arella approached the head of the grave, staking the small, makeshift cross into the soft soil and placed two rocks to flank the cross, as if knights to a king.

Once the task was done, Arella turned to aiding her friend with placing the rocks over the grave as a protective covering, the sound of stones clinking together continueing in a pattern.

Once the pair finished blanketing the fragile soil with armor, they stood up, body aching and covered in perspiration from their grave task.

The pair stayed quiet, Arella's eyes staring at the shallow grave before her as several minutes of silence passed.

"I do not mean to rush, but are you finished with your goodbyes?" Akeem asked hesitantly, Arella's head snapping towards the man at the sound of his voice, as if snapping out of a trance.

"Huh? Oh, yes...I am." Arella answered, however, despite her response the woman refused to budge, the woman taking several more minutes before releasing a deep sigh.

"Lets go, Kafka." Arella muttered softly, as if not even aware with what she was speaking as she grabbed the reigns of the mule.

"Are you well?" Akeem asked, having returned the shovel long ago as Arella stayed silent for several seconds before nodding.

"Yes, I am. Thank you for helping me, Akeem." Arella spoke, the man smiling sadly as the woman showed no form of emotion on her face.

"It was the least I could do for a friend." Akeem replied softly, the pair walking in silence all the way back to Jerusalem.

Once returning to the Holy City, Akeem led the mule into the stables once more, securing the pack mule as Arella stared at the familiar spot she and her father had slept at the night before. The dirt was disturbed by their bodies, and left an imprint into the heated soil.

"Are you well, Arella?" Akeem asked once more, concerned and worried as the woman just stared at the spot of earth, her trance breaking as she inhaled deeply before exhaling, falling silent.

"What am I to do? What should I do now, Akeem?" Arella asked, truly lost on what to do as she shrugged her shoulders.

"That is not for me to decide, my friend." Akeem answered, Arella falling silent, blue eyes dim.

"I am going to the healers." Arella stated, her movements suddenly swift and confident as Akeem jumped slightly, briskly following the woman.

"To the healers? What for?" Akeem asked, both quickly making their way into the crowded streets.

"Because they lied. They caused this to happen!" Arella hissed shrilly, her face flushing with rage as tears involuntarily flooded her eyes, blurring her vision.

"What? Arella, I am sure the healers-"

"Greed! Filled with the sin of greed they are! They would not help Father because we had no money to spare, and look what they did!" Arella hissed, Akeem backing off as several passers by began to stare.

"I-uuggghhh!" Arella screamed in frustration, pulling at her hair before marching onwards, rage fueling her.

Slowly, the woman's stride began to slow and her eyes dimmed, Arella's footfalls becoming softer and softer before completely stopping, eyes once again watering.

What was she doing? A fool's errand, that is what. Doctors may have been able to treat many physical ailments, but the heart was one ailment they could not treat.

Crestfallen, Arella continued to walk in the direction of the healer, failing to notice the ringing of a bell in the distance.

"Arella." Akeem called, the sound of the bell ringing becoming stronger. The woman did not respond.

"Arella." Akeem called once more, seeing the crowd begin to drastically thin. Still the woman did not heed him.

"Arella!" Arella's eyes focused and her ears perked upon hearing her name being called, the sound of a bell loudly ringing in her ear. Looking for the sound of the ringing, Arella was shocked to find not a sheep wearing the bell, but a man. She also noticed almost no one was in the street.

Arella noticed Akeem off to the side, motioning for her to come to him. Unsure, Arella obeyed, watching a thin and scaly skinned man draped in black limp down the road, a bell around his neck and a cane by his side. Not a soul dared walk into the road as long as the man with the bell was on it.

"That was close." Akeem sighed, the bell becoming softer and softer as the man moved farther away.

"What happened? Where did everyone go?" Arella asked, Akeem watching as the occupants slowly emerged back into the streets.

"They were fleeing."

"From that man?" Arella asked, Akeem nodding, "Why?"

"Because he is a leper. That is why he wears the bell. So others know where he is at all times." Akeem answered, the work 'leper' echoing in Arella's head. She heard of the word leper before, but it was largely something she didn't think about.

"I see." Arella replied, nodding her head.

"Are we still going to the healer?"

"I intend to. You do not have to follow me, Akeem. You have done more than enough."

"What do you wish to do once you arrive?" Akeem asked, curious as he and the woman slowly began their walk.

"I do not know. Maybe I could work for them?"

"But I thought you were angry at them?" Ameek asked, confusion in his brown eyes as he looked upon the woman.

"It...was not their fault. They could not help Father. Only God could help Father, and He did not. At least the healers tried." Arella explained, sighing softly, sadly. Akeem looked at the woman with pity.

"If you intend to work for them, perhaps I could help you? My father used to work as a doctor, and there may be people who knew him. Perhaps if they knew my father, they would be more likely to accept your offer." Akeem suggested, Arella opening her mouth to reject, but instead remained quiet. Akeem smiled, taking it as a sign that the young woman had accepted his offer.

Within minutes the pair had arrived at the healers, and Arella's disbelief-the men had accepted her thanks to Akeem's connections only after several minutes of speaking. They doctors were overjoyed to see their friend, and had happily offered the woman work. It was a simple job of cleaning the equipment and bedding, but it suited Arella just fine.

"Thank you, Akeem. I mean it. You did so much for me in my time of need. If you ever need help, please, come see me and I will return your kindness." Arella replied, smiling despite the soreness of her cheeks, face still heavily bruised.

"You are welcome, Arella, but I am only a servant of Allah. Still, I will always be happy to aid a friend in their time of need." Akeem replied, smiling at the woman, "Farewell, my friend. I shall pray to Allah that you are kept safe."

"Farewell, Akeem. Stay safe." Arella said her goodbyes, watching her friend leave as the sun slowly began to set.

A sudden exhaustion of physical and emotional drainage suddenly hit the woman, Arella retreating to her small bed within the compound. Yet despite the woman's exhaustion as she lay in bed, she could not sleep. Something was missing. Something important was gone.

A wave of realization hit the young woman. Her father was gone. Her father was dead. And upon realizing-and truly understanding that simple fact for the first time-Arella cried, truly cried and mourned for her father. She had been on autopilot, shock through most of the day, and the horror and realization that Jordan was never coming back came crashing full force into the young woman. But the perhaps the worst of all was the constant knowing that Arella had never gotten to truly say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Baldwin IV's time, lepers were viewed as holy and graced by God, rather than social pariahs.
> 
> Jerusalem even had an Order of Knights that were strictly noblemen with the disease.
> 
> It's unknown why, but Baldwin never joined the Order, perhaps because of his duties, or perhaps because it was known that he would die young.


End file.
